


Replication

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Madness, PG-13 - Blue Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars), Time Period: 2006-present (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Dawning realisation in the sunset of life.





	Replication

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** **SPOILERS:** for episode 1.01
> 
> A follow on from [DNA](http://kerfuffle.org/collatorsden/eFiction331/viewstory.php?sid=19)

Sammy knows he’s in trouble. The black-outs are back, over thirty years since he last had one. Transferring to Birmingham had obviously been a good move. Moving back to Manchester after the death of his wife obviously wasn’t.

 

 

The dreams are back too. The faces of four girls, swimming through his mind, bloodied and blackened with lolling tongues and glassy eyes. He knows who they are, of course. The first three he saw on the slab. He vowed to bring the killer to justice, but it was a promise he couldn’t keep. The fourth he saw in the paper, a week after transferring. In his head she’s not newsprint, but glorious Technicolor; a sunset of suffering and death.

 

 

Last week they were joined by a fifth face and Sammy knows what that means.

* * * * *

Sammy knows the sixth face. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but he knows it’s important for something. He dreams of her: bloody and broken and pleading. He also dreams of her as a series of still photographs spread out on a table, a Bosch triptych reinvented for the sterile age.

 

 

The new dream has invited other friends too. A girl in red warns him to stop, but her chalky fingers never quite seem to be able to hold on to him. In the dark she comforts him and soothes his sleep with quiet lullabies. He dreams of his past, but can no longer work out why the old station at Hyde is filled with computers, video recorders and air conditioning. He suspects it’s because he’s getting old, but he doesn’t feel a day over thirty-seven.

 

 

For some reason, he feels that this is his year.

* * * * *

Sammy knows. He’s worked it out and after thirty-three years he has come full circle. Everything he kept locked up inside has come spilling out and everything is now clear. He is back at the beginning, facing the start of it all and the end of it all. He is angry of course. He was a good man until fate decided to screw with him and send him down this destructive course. But Sammy knows that there is no point railing over fate.

 

 

The seventh, the last, face was the key. He feels sad that he had to kill her anyway, even though he’d worked it all out. But she would insist on trying to arrest him. After thirty-three years there is no love, no connection, just a regret that it had to end that way. But he knows that the man in the coma won’t live to miss her and he can no longer bring himself to care about anyone else.

 

 

He wonders if he can fit Colin Raimes up for it this time.

 

 

_fin_


End file.
